


between us and the stars

by mlraven



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Accidental Soulbond, Canon-typical hijinx, F/F, F/M, Feelings, Mind Meld, Multi, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Negotiation, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-20 20:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12441408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlraven/pseuds/mlraven
Summary: Accidental alien-induced soulbond shenanigans? Just another day on theRaza.





	between us and the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Themisto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themisto/gifts).



> Happy Fandom Growth!!
> 
> This fic kind of got away from me. I started with some things from your General Prompts list and suddenly, almost 9000 words later... :D
> 
> I hope you like it, and that your Fandom Growth experience has been fabulous!
> 
> Thanks, as ever, to yulechat (now on Discord!) for all the encouragement and word wars, and to ardentaislinn and G for the beta-ing and advice!

Before the link, things are clear-cut. Three knows that his dalliances with Two and Truffault are just that— dalliances. Nothing lurking under the surface, no pesky feelings to interfere with straight-up, uncomplicated good sex.

After the link? Well, after the link, things get a bit complicated.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two isn’t sure what changed, but one day she notices that she’s reluctant to immediately return to negotiations with Truffault after their horizontal exercise break. The break itself is typical— Truffault once quipped that one could hardly negotiate with pirates without engaging in a bit of hedonism— but usually once the moans die down they segue neatly back into dealmaking.

Two hastily sits up, firmly shoving away the questionable desire for pillow talk. Where did she even learn about pillow talk? All of the encounters in her memory are transactional, for pleasure, or both. None have ever involved _ feelings _ .

She grabs her discarded shirt from where it fell and busies herself with getting dressed. Business now; refusing to examine or acknowledge feelings later.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Later, Truffault realizes it’s the nanites that make the final link. Mikkei’s been experimenting with nanites, trying to copy the ingenious—  _ alien _ , Two’s voice objects— version that gives Two her superhuman fortitude. The scientists have finished preliminary testing and are ready for their first human trial.

Truffault volunteers.

She’s not sure whether it’s pesky sentimentality or simply her overwhelming curiosity about augmentation that pushes her to volunteer, but when she lies down for the injections she feels only anticipation.

Later, once she’s adjusted to the fizzing in her veins, Truffault notices what feels like something brushing against the depths of her mind, something like whispers floating out from around corners. She catalogues the sensation and summarily dismisses it as a side-effect of the procedure. If the voices ever coalesce, she’ll re-evaluate.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Three months after they removed the alien from Two’s head, two months post Truffault’s experimental nanite injection, and one month since Two’s minor pillow-talk freakout, the  _ Raza  _ docks at a ‘station to refuel.

The moment they drop out of FTL, Three notices a faint buzzing in the back of his head. It’s not unlike the feeling of the aliens, when he got too close to the portal in the Dwarf Star facility. He shakes his head vigorously, trying to dislodge whatever’s stuck up there, but if anything, the buzzing only gets louder as they approach the ‘station.

When they dock, they receive a message from Truffault; apparently she’s in the area and would love a chance to stop by “while there aren’t any delightful wars to distract us,” as she colorfully puts it.

Watching the message from the bridge, Three notices Two twitching slightly, as if she’s hearing something no one else is. For his part, when the call connects Three feels the buzzing in his head shift up a half-step. He’s too busy suppressing his own flinching to notice that Two calms down when the call disconnects.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two and Three meet Truffault at a ‘station eating house while Five and Six go off to explore the marketplace. The Android volunteers to stay on the  _ Raza  _ to run a complete diagnostic of the power system, which has been fluctuating intermittently. So far the fluctuations haven’t shorted out any essential systems, so Five tries to persuade Android to put off the diagnostic and join them on the ‘station.

“You can run the diagnostic another time, Android. When was the last time you got a chance to explore a ‘station with us?” Five wheedles.

“That’s very kind of you, Five, but a few hours of work now will likely prevent critical failures in our next encounter with Ferrous Corp,” Android replies. “However if you would like to do something nice for me, you could find me a new hair clip in the market. One that could be used for the braided updo we found?” Android practices her best smile, the corners of her mouth tucking up and her eyebrows rising in anticipation.

Five agrees, and the rest of the crew leaves Android to run her tests.

When they get to the eating house, Three restrains a whistle as his eyes adjust to the darkened room. Truffault’s chosen quite the upscale place. Three eyes the velvet curtains hanging from the ceiling, dividing the space into secluded nooks, and the staff dressed in dark clothes, moving so discretely as to be invisible.

Amidst the low hum of conversation emanating from the nooks, Three hears the buzzing start back up. Oddly, it sounds like it’s coming from behind him, but when he turns around, there’s no one there.

As the host brings them to the table where Truffault waits, he takes the opportunity to case the other patrons. Everyone else is dressed more formally than Two and Three’s leather jackets and tight pants, but no one looks askance at their presence. Three mentally shrugs; it’s often the richest places that have the most crazy shit going on. Maybe they really aren’t so out of place here.

They turn a corner made of billowing, dark fabric and see Truffault, sprawled back in a chair at a table set for three. The buzzing in Three’s head picks up, shifting up a half-step and becoming almost excited-sounding. As they approach, Truffault toasts them with a crystal tumbler holding something amber.

“Just the people I wanted to see!” she crows, throwing her arms wide. The liquid sloshes in the glass.

Two dismisses the host with a sharp nod and hurries to take the glass from Truffault’s hand.

“Delaney,” she says urgently in a low tone, bending down to speak close to her ear. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

Three leans on the back of one of the chairs, shaking his head slightly in an attempt to dislodge the buzzing. “What she means is, why the hell are you drunk? I thought the great Commander Truffault never drinks in public— something about trade deals and taking advantage.”

Truffault ignores him. She tries to take a sip of her drink only to notice it’s missing. Pouting, she looks around trying to locate it.

“I may have said that, but that was before I got the promotion! Well, demotion. Well, whatever it is. In any case, I’m celebrating!” she finishes, finally spotting her drink in Two’s hand and reaching for it.

Two holds it away from her.

“Demotion? What happened?” she asks, pulling out her chair. She hands the glass to Three, who sniffs it and raises his eyebrows. Whatever happened must be serious; she’s shelled out for the good stuff.

Truffault waves away the question. “It doesn’t matter what happened, and besides, I don’t want to talk about it. You wouldn’t make me talk, would you, Three?” She looks up at Three through her lashes, playing coy.

Three snorts. “Whether I’d make you talk is irrelevant, if Boss Lady wants you to talk. But if I did,” he says, eyeing her, “I’d have better ways,” he finishes succinctly, and tosses back the remainder of her drink.

Truffault crows and claps her hands, delighted, then turns back to Two.

“See, Mother? It’s two against one— hah, two against Two!” Truffault collapses to the side sniggering and almost slides off her chair.

Two and Three exchange a look.

“Hey, you know what I have back on the ship?” Three says in a falsely-bright tone. “Mercurian ale.”

Truffault cracks one eye open to examine him.

“That disgusting rotgut?” she asks, pursing her lips. After a moment’s consideration, she pivots: “Why didn’t you say so sooner? I’m inviting myself back to the  _ Raz— _ to your ship,” she corrects herself loudly, peering around as if the Galactic Authority is hiding behind the curtains.

Two rolls her eyes at Three and stands up, reaching for Truffault to haul her to her feet.

“Wait!” Truffault cries. She dives down below the table to rummage for something, muttering to herself. She surfaces with a half-filled bottle of the amber liquid she was drinking before.

“Can’t forget this; it was very expensive,” she informs Two seriously.

Two rolls her eyes again and hoists Truffault up, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

“Give it to Three, he’ll keep it safe,” she says.

Three collects the bottle and Truffault’s discarded coat as Two leads Truffault out of the eating house.

“Just call me the pack ‘droid,” he cracks, and follows them back to the ship.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They get Truffault back to the  _ Raza  _ and into Two’s quarters, where she collapses unceremoniously onto the bed. Three rolls his eyes and crouches down to remove her boots.

“I’ve got some better ideas of what you could be doing down there,” Truffault leers at him, teetering sideways toward the edge of the bed.

Three huffs a laugh and finishes unlacing her second boot. The buzzing in his head seems louder in the quiet room.

“Maybe later, dollface,” he says, patting her foot.

He stands up from his crouch and swings Truffault’s legs onto the bed. Two covers her with a blanket.

“We’ll be right here,” she says, and they retreat to the couch to watch and make sure Truffault doesn’t smother herself as she sleeps.

  
  
  
  


  
  


Two bolts upright; an alarm is sounding. At some point in the night, she and Three have fallen asleep, slumped over onto each other.

A muffled groan comes from the bed, where Truffault’s head is barely visible above the covers, resplendent in a halo of tangled hair.

Three jerks as his head falls off Two’s shoulder.

“Whazzigo’non?” he slurs, groping for his gun.

Two is already calling the bridge.

“Android, come in. What happened?”

Three fumbles for his comm, reseating it in his ear in time to hear Android say “—fluctuations increasing. It seems that my attempt to repair the broken component has damaged other systems. Life support is currently oscillating between 100 percent and five.”

“Five  _ percent _ ?!” squawks Three, looking around frantically as if he can see the life support system failing.

“Indeed,” Android confirms in her forever pleasant, if currently worried tone. “I recommend getting to the stasis pods as quickly as possible. I will stay outside and locate the source of the new problem. Once I have stabilized the life support system and the ship is once again habitable, I will trigger the wake-up signal.”

Two stops trying to fish her left boot out from under the couch and stands up, tugging Three away from his own fruitless quest for footwear.

“Come on, we have to get her up and into a ‘pod,” she says, jerking her head at the bed.

Three sighs but nods.

Between the two of them, they get Truffault up, out of Two’s room, and into a pod. Three grumbles under his breath the entire time, monologue alternating between cursing the  _ Raza _ ’s systems and fatalistically predicting they’ll have all lost their memories again when the Android wakes them back up.

Two and Three make sure that Five and Six get into their pods safely, then Three climbs into his own.

“Sayonara, Boss Lady,” he says before she triggers the pod closure mechanism. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when we wake up with no memories again.”

Two rolls her eyes and pushes the button. The last thing Three sees is Two climbing into her own pod.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As it turns out, Three’s doomsday prophecy doesn’t actually come to pass.

The pods open when Android triggers the wake-up signal. The rest of the crew and Truffault stumble out, bleary-eyed. Three catches himself on the wall when his left foot twinges with pins and needles and almost folds under him.

“I’ve fixed the malfunction that caused the life support system to fail,” Android announces unnecessarily as Three hops around, swearing at his foot, the Android, and the system failure that sent them into the pods.

He’s too busy inventing creative curse portmanteaus to notice that Truffault bends down to touch her own left ankle, a puzzled expression on her face.

“Good work, Android,” Two says, ignoring Three’s antics.

“If everything’s fixed, can we go back to what we were doing before you shoved us into stasis?” Three asks.  _ We have some unfinished business I plan to be all over. Or under, as the case definitely is,  _ he adds mentally, smirk spreading across his face.

“Three!” Truffault exclaims. “Not in public!”

Five, Six, and Android look between Three and Truffault curiously.

“What?” Six asks, puzzled.

“He’s always like this in public,” Five chips in.

Two touches her ear, thinking rapidly. She hears Three’s offended “Hey!” in the background.

_ You know she’s not comfortable discussing sex around the crew,  _ she thinks loudly.

“But I didn’t!” Three objects, wincing as if Two shouted. “I only thought it!” His eyes widen as he realizes what he said.

_ Oh, shit. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Three barricades himself in his quarters, as if not being in the same room with the others means they won’t be able to hear his thoughts.

_ You know we can still hear you,  _ Two’s voice says in his head, tone exasperated.  _ You need to come out so we can figure out what to do about this. _

_ What are you afraid of?  _ Truffault adds, her mental voice trying for its usual sauciness and missing the mark slightly.

Three growls, biting off a curse. He slams his palm against the wall of his quarters. He’s doing his best not to think about anything; he doesn’t want Two and Truffault to feel how scared he is. Better they think he’s angry than the alternative.

He doesn’t even want to acknowledge the alternative.

_ Can’t a man think in peace?  _ he grumbles.  _ Hard enough to get any quiet around here without you two following me into my own head to nag me. _

He hears a sigh and a throaty chuckle echo in his mind.

_ If we did this intentionally, don’t you think we’d have a plan to turn it back off?  _ Truffault asks, amused.  _ Besides _ , she continues more seriously,  _ Maybe  _ you  _ did this intentionally. Who’s to say you didn’t get into something you shouldn’t’ve because you thought of some creative uses for this? _

I’m _ to say!  _ Three snaps.  _ The last thing I want is the two of you poking around in my head. One person per head; that’s a hard limit. _

Two feels Truffault sober, the corners of her mouth turning down unhappily. Somehow, Two’s picking up on Truffault’s emotions, not just her thoughts. She doesn’t think that Three can feel them, though. Or if he can, he’s choosing not to pay attention.

She sets that aside to examine later. There are more important things to deal with right now, like the sense she’s getting from Truffault that she might know more about this situation than she’s letting on.

Two sighs, and tries to send a thought only to Three.

_ I think she might have some idea of what caused this. Will you please just come out so we can talk? _

Three leaves his room reluctantly, curiosity beating his desire to stay as far away from the others as possible. He walks over to knock on Two’s door, grumbling the entire way.

The door slides open immediately. Three takes a deep breath then steps inside, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. He attempts his typical casual lean, arms folded across his chest, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the trapped look in his eyes.

Two is standing behind the bed, arms crossed. Truffault’s sitting on the couch, fidgeting. They’re both avoiding each other’s eyes, though they look at him when the door opens.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” Truffault says, a touch acidly. “I know you’re not enjoying this, but it’s quite difficult to determine what happened when one of us refuses to participate.”

Two huffs and lays a hand on Truffault’s forearm, where her shirtsleeves are rolled up. When her hand makes contact with Truffault’s skin, Two feels a zap of something like electricity. Her hand tightens involuntarily on Truffault’s arm.

“Let me handle this,” she says.

Three’s looking between the other two, eyes narrowed. He’d seen Two’s hand tighten, had flinched himself, almost as if he, too, felt the shock.

Three notes that only Truffault looked unsurprised by the sensation. He calculates, then pushes himself off the wall, stabbing a finger at Truffault.

“You know something,” he says, suspicious.

Now Truffault flinches.

“Hah! I knew it! You did something, something that got you fired— excuse me,  _ demoted _ — and now you’ve brought it here to infect us too,” Three crows. “I bet it’s those damn aliens again,” he muses.

Truffault looks at her hands.

“I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” she starts, eyes fixed firmly on her lap, but Two cuts her off.

“Not the aliens— their tech. Nanites,” she says bluntly.

Truffault looks up, startled, then looks away. Confirmation.

Three groans.

“What did you do, woman?” he exclaims. “I thought we were finally done with those damn aliens after we sucked them out of her!” He jerks his head at Two.

Two feels discomfort coming off of Truffault in waves.

“Let’s hear her out, Three,” she says, nodding at Truffault. “And you, Delaney— talk.”  
  
  
  
  
  


 

Truffault tells them about how one of her spies in Dwarf Star stole incomplete plans for the second gen nanites; how she had her scientists experiment to make a complete prototype; how she volunteered to be the first human to undergo nanite injection trials. How the injections worked; how she’s now stronger, faster, healthier than before. How her superiors in Mikkei found out she’d undergone modification without their approval and censured her.

“...which is how I ended up in that eating house,” she finishes, lips twisting in recognition of the undignified state they’d found her in.

Three lets out a “hmph” and uncrosses his arms.

“That’s all a nice story,” he says, “but how did we go from you getting a nanite injection to all of us hearing each other’s thoughts?”

Two’s been staring at Truffault, brows furrowed as she thinks.

“It’s not just the nanites,” she says slowly. “It’s the aliens we had in our heads, and the data link she used to transfer you the Hyperion-8 plans.”

Truffault sighs. “Yes,” she agrees. “We’ll have to have your Android run tests to be sure, but I suspect it was the perfect storm. I believe that the aliens, and the nanites, and our  _ perfectly safe _ data transfer tech reacted badly to the  _ Raza _ ’s group stasis configuration. You haven’t been back in the stasis pods since you had the alien removed?” This last she directs at Two.

Two nods.

“Well,” Truffault says briskly. “I suppose that’s that.”

Three splutters.

“That’s that?! What are we going to  _ do  _ about it? We can’t just say, ‘Well, this happened, and it’s really too bad but there’s nothing to be done so let’s not even discuss it!’” Three says, mimicking Truffault’s brassy drawl. His fists are clenched by his side and he’s scowling fiercely.

“Well, what do you propose we do about it?” Truffault returns. “I’m sure you, with your  _ enormous _ background in alien technology, have some bright ideas?”

“Guys,” Two says, stepping in between them before the argument can devolve into a fist fight, “arguing about this isn’t helpful. We’re all in the same situation; we all want this resolved as quickly as possible. Can we agree to be on the same team?”

Three looks away; arms crossed again.

Truffault sighs, and nods. “I’ll do my best to remain civil throughout this process.”

She looks at Three and takes a deep breath. “And while we’re determining how to become unstuck, I can think of several  _ creative  _ applications of this situation that we might experiment with…”

They all recognize it as the peace offering it is, but it gets Three to uncross his arms, a half-smile crooking his mouth as he looks back at her.

“I can’t argue with that,” he says, and offers his hand to pull Truffault up off the couch. “Come on, the sooner we talk to Android, the sooner we can get back to normal.”  
  
  
  
  
  


 

Much to their chagrin, the Android has never heard of anything like this.

“I’m sorry, Three,” she says earnestly, “but perhaps the Free Beings know something. I can contact them and ask,” she offers.

Two shakes her head. “No, Android,” she says. “We know how you left things with Victor; we don’t want you to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

The corners of Android’s lips turn up. “Thank you for your consideration, Two, but I will be fine,” she assures her. “I will contact Victor and relay any ideas he may have.”

Three claps Android on the shoulder. “Thanks, Android. Knew we could count on you to get us out of this mess.”

The Android’s smile broadens. “I will do my best.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


While they wait to hear back from Victor, Three vanishes into the bowels of the  _ Raza. _ When Truffault knocks to ask if they should go after him, Two shrugs. “He’ll be back in time for dinner,” she says, and closes the door to her quarters in Truffault’s face.

“Well!” Truffault mutters to herself, turning away. Since she’s clearly unwanted here, perhaps she should take the opportunity to return to her shuttle and catch up on paperwork.

Someone will call her when there’s news.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Five finds Three in the vault, sitting on a crate, kicking his heels dejectedly. His gaze is fixed on the unlit stasis pod, and he’s chewing the corner of his thumb.

Five stands in the entryway for a moment, eyes narrowed as she evaluates the situation. Will he accept sympathy, or does he need tough love?

Three shakes his head vigorously and presses his palms against his eyes.

A little bit of both it is.

“This is pretty weird, even for us,” Five offers.

Three lets out a sound he’d deny was a squeak and whirls around.

“Jesus, kid, you scared me,” he says, one hand clapped to his chest like a begloved lady. “Next time, make a sound or something. Almost gave me a heart attack!”

Five sees her opening. “With my luck, your heart attack would trigger one in Two and Truffault as well.” She pauses. “Oh wait, was it your brains that got linked, not your hearts?” she asks, falsely coy.

Three scowls at her. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but I don’t like it. All that’s linked’s our heads, and that’s more than enough.”

Five sighs internally and sets aside that line of questioning for the moment.

“Of course,” she demurs, and changes the subject. “Hey, did you hear about Six’s latest attempt to contact his kid?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Just before dinner, Android comms them with an update.

Victor, unsurprisingly, was no help. He’s never heard of anything like this, nor have any other Free Beings. He suggests they run some tests, and/or get used to the new status quo.

Two, Three, and Truffault take the news about as well as can be expected. Truffault sighs and looks away; Three shuffles his feet and drums his fingers against his thigh; Two watches the others, face impassive.

“I do have several diagnostic ideas,” Android offers. “To test the parameters of your bonds.”

“What’s the use of _testing the parameters_ —” Three makes a face as he mimics the Android— “if we don’t know how to break the bonds?”

“If we can’t break them, we’ll need to know how to live with them,” Two says flatly. “I doubt the Mikkei Combine will allow their esteemed Commander Truffault to become permanently attached to the  _ Raza _ .”

Delaney taps a finger against her mouth, thinking. “No, but I can take a leave of absence until we figure out how to fix this. They might even be glad to receive my request for time off, after my most recent debacle.” Her voice is wry.

“Great, that’s settled.” Three claps his hands together. “Now, back to avoiding each other.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Over the next few days, in between long bouts of avoidance— Truffault on endless calls with Mikkei administration and scientists, Two taking her frustrations out on the punching bag, Three pacing the halls— they test their bonds.

They conclude, in no particular order, that they each have some amount of residual sensation-sharing— when one is in pain, the others feel it like an echo— but Two feels it the most strongly. Android hypothesizes that this is because Two is the only one whose entire existence is based on the aliens’ tech.

Two sets aside that burgeoning existential crisis to deal with after this one’s done.

Other experimental highlights include discovering that they can be about as far apart as the two most distant parts of the  _ Raza _ , but that if Truffault tries to fly her shuttle out of range of their short-reach comms, they all collapse from searing pain.

They discover that their telepathy (or whatever it is) extends about the same distance.

They experiment with trying to only communicate with one, not both of the others. They have mixed luck; unsurprisingly Two picks it up quickly and Three struggles with it. More surprising is that now that they understand what information is being shared, Delaney seems to have locked down her outgoing end of the connections entirely.

When Three corners her to ask about the sudden silence from her corner of his head, she looks away, fidgeting with the seam of her pants.

“It’s easier this way,” she finally says. “Besides, I thought you’d be all for this. It’s one fewer person crowding into your head, after all.”

Three watches her for a long moment.

“Nice subterfuge,” he comments, “but don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve left the incoming channels open.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, whistling darkly under his breath.

After the door slides shut behind him, Delaney finally exhales. She rests her face in her hands, relishing their cool on the hot blush of her cheeks. She should’ve realized locking them out would tip them off. She can only hope that they assume she’s hiding professional secrets from them, not personal ones.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next day, Truffault flies her shuttle into the  _ Raza _ ’s spare bay. Mikkei’s approved her leave for an indeterminate amount of time (a fact which privately worries Truffault about her job stability) and it’s past time for the  _ Raza  _ to leave the ‘station. They’ve already spent too long there to be safe.

The  _ Raza  _ heads off into the black on a small job that can be completed entirely by Six, Five, and the Android. Two firmly refuses to take any jobs that’ll require either her or Three, as they’ve proven not entirely stable or comfortable with their new skills yet.

Three grumbles— it would be a good distraction, he thinks, but in the end he doesn’t put up more than a token protest.

Two is very clear with everyone: while the others handle the jobs, their assignment is to get used to the bonds, to practice using them, and, ideally, to figure out how to break them.

Three makes himself scarce while Truffault moves herself into the spare crew quarters. They were originally One’s, but even Five has finally given up hope that they’ll find him locked in a closet somewhere, alive. The remaining crew had cleaned the quarters, taking turns in the small space. They saved any personal items— he’d managed to amass more than they thought possible in the short time he was with them— in his former locker, reasoning that they never use the lockers, anyway.

Truffault chooses to move only her bare necessities— a stack of nearly identical collared shirts, dark pants, socks, and undergarments; her toiletries; her tablet and comms system. She hesitates, then grabs the oversized, fuzzy dove gray sweater she wears only on the shuttle where no one can see her. Even if she’s keeping Two and Three locked out of her head, they still haven’t figured out how to do the same for her. Giving them a glimpse beneath her armor by wearing such an incongruous piece of clothing might be enough reciprocity for them not to poke too deeply into her behavior.

She does a final sweep of her shuttle for anything she’s missed, then powers it down and goes to settle into her quarters on the  _ Raza _ . What a bizarre thought.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two takes advantage of her relationship with the Android to get her to lock down the training room so that only she can get in or out. Once she’s locked out anyone but an incredibly intrepid Five, she sits in the middle of the room, cross-legged on the mats. She’s previously found that meditation helps her retain her calm, and she currently feels her grip on it slipping.

She crosses her feet under their opposite knees, and places her hands palms-down on her knees. She takes one last look around the room, visually confirming the room is as secure as it can get. Satisfied, she removes the comm from her ear and sets it on the mat, close enough that she’ll hear if someone yells.

As Two closes her eyes and tries to settle her breathing, she finds it’s harder than normal. Even though she’s made sure that no one can bother her, she still feels as though someone is looking over her shoulder. Two someones, in fact.

When she concentrates, she can feel them, like two glowing, heat-producing wisps at the back of her mind. Truffault’s wisp feels much thinner and more insubstantial; Three had mentioned something about her intentionally blocking them. Two sees evidence of this in Truffault’s decreased presence in her mind, but she can still feel hints from Truffault’s end of the connection. Now, she can also identify the feeling as similar to how the connection felt before it was cemented in the stasis pods.

Two fixes on that thought— how long before the stasis pods did this start? Truffault was vague on the timing of when she had the nanites injected. Did she have them injected before or after they had their most recent post-mission fuck?

She wonders why the timeline is so important to her— after all, it’s not like their sexual relationship ever contained shades of anything else, much less anything romantic. But— she had suddenly wanted to cuddle, and she couldn’t figure out where the thought had come from. Had it come from Delaney; from the bond?

But it didn’t matter. Two hadn’t wanted the relationship to be anything but sex; neither the one with Truffault nor the one with Three. And, strange desire for post-coital cuddling aside, she still doesn’t want either association to be anything but sex.

Though, the more she thinks about it, maybe some post-coital cuddling wouldn’t be so bad. They were all living on the  _ Raza  _ for the foreseeable future; maybe they could work out a bed-sharing agreement. They’d come together as three before; the bonds shouldn’t change those desires. Should they?

  
  
  
  
  
  


Three tries one thing after another to stop dwelling on the bonds. He tries pacing the corridors, where he seems to repeatedly trip over Five, who’s always tinkering with something in a wall panel or bumping into him in a rush to get somewhere else. Each time they run into each other, she gives him an indecipherable look, as if she knows something he doesn’t.

After the fourth such encounter, he gives up on pacing and tries to go work out in the gym. The doors won’t open, and when he comms the Android to ask what’s wrong with them, all she’ll tell him is that the training room is off-limits for the foreseeable future.

Muttering curses under his breath, he decides to go hole up in his room. At least no one can get in there without his say, he thinks, studiously avoiding memories of Five dropping from the ceiling to steal his bullets and Wendy forcing the door open.

Unfortunately, Three finds his room stifling. He’s never before had problems with spending his life on ships and ‘stations, rarely getting the chance to spend enough time in the fresh air and endless vastness of planets to miss it when it’s gone.

Now, he feels like the walls are closing in.

Suddenly, it seems like he can actually  _ smell  _ the recycled air gently streaming from the vent. He growls and whacks the door mechanism, frustrated. If his quarters are too small, maybe he can go hide in Truffault’s shuttle. At least it’s unexplored territory.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Three spends ten minutes trying to hotwire the door to Truffault’s shuttle before he gives up and calls Five.

“Hey, kid,” he starts, trying to inject cheer into his voice, “Can you come down to Bay Two to help me with something? I’ve got a puzzle that’s right up your alley.”

He hears a rustle, and then— “Three?” Five sounds out of breath. “Are you okay? You sound upset.”

Three covers his eyes with his hand and sighs. So much for hoping she wouldn’t ask questions.

“Never mind that,” he deflects. “Can you help me or not?”

“I’ll be right there,” she replies, and the line clicks off.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Five arrives, she’s wearing a fuschia and mauve paisley shirt tied around her waist, a forest green floral t-shirt, and dark leggings spotted with dust and some kind of silvery grease. She has streaks of dust and grease all up her arms and on her face, and her hair is held up by her welding goggles, which she’s shoved up onto the top of her head. She’s carrying her bulging tool bag in her arms.

“I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt anything important,” Three says, eyes flicking away from her. He already feels embarrassed that he called her.

Five dumps the tool bag on the floor and shakes her head impatiently.

“You didn’t,” she says. “Now, what are you doing trying to break into Delaney’s shuttle? Couldn’t you have just asked her to let you in?”

Three sighs.

“I didn’t want to ask her. I didn’t really want to ask  _ you _ , either, but I couldn’t get in without help.”

Five cocks her head. It sounds like the shuttle might not be his end goal.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says carefully, “but I think I understand anyway. You’re trying to get away from your thoughts, and the only place you can think of to go is here.” 

He grunts, unhappy.

She sighs. Maybe it’s time to try the direct approach.

“Look,” she starts, voice quiet. She leans back against the outside of the shuttle. “Don’t yell, but have you considered actually doing the thinking, instead of trying to run away? You might be surprised by what you find in your head.”

Three’s shoulders slump and he lets his head fall forward until his forehead thumps against the door to the shuttle.

“If I start thinking about it, they’ll know before I do,” he mutters to the door, eyes squeezed shut.

Five’s eyes flick over to him, careful not to move her head or make a sound.

“Everyone knows how bad I am at  _ feelings _ ,” he says, sounding disgusted. Five wonders if he’s more disgusted by the idea of having feelings or at the fact that he’s admitting to it.

“If I think about this long enough to figure out how I feel, they’ll have more’n enough to sink me.”

He lets out a weary sigh. “I can’t block them out, like Truffault can. They’ll hear the whole thing; everything I’m thinking about, right as I think about it. Hell, they’re probably listening now.” He thumps his head on the door. “I need to know how I feel so that I can decide whether I even want to tell them. But I can’t figure out how I’m feeling without telling them accidentally. What a clusterfuck.” He chuckles humorlessly.

Five shifts against the door, willing herself to stay quiet. This is the most Three’s said since they came out of the stasis pods. Actually, she realizes, this is the most he’s  _ ever _ said about his emotions or what goes on in his head.

She waits for him to say something else or to signal that he’s done talking. She doesn’t want to cut off his train of thought prematurely. He’s quiet long enough that she’s starting to try to figure out what to say when he suddenly says, voice small, “Don’t suppose you have any bright ideas for this one?” 

His eyes are still squeezed shut, but now there’s an accompanying downward tilt to his mouth, as if he’s trying to stop himself from crying.

She waits, but it seems like this is a genuine question. She racks her brain for any kind of technology that could intervene in their strange brain-bond, but she can’t think of anything that would be safe to use in such a volatile situation. She has one idea, but—

“There is one thing,” she says, voice cautious. “You could try guided visualization, maybe. It might help you build a wall between your self and theirs’.” She glances at him; he’s not objecting yet. “Just— think about it, before rejecting it.”

Three sighs and turns his head slightly toward her, opening the eye that’s closer.

“You really think that would help me?” he asks, voice gruff but unsure.

She sets a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s worth a try,” she replies. “You can’t just not think about this and avoid them forever, right?”

Three reaches out and snags an arm around Five’s shoulder for a tight hug.

“Thanks, kid,” he says into the top of her head, voice suspiciously thick.

Five hugs him back, willing calm into him through the contact. She hopes he listens to her advice, but she’ll settle for him not hiding for days on-end. Either way, she knows he’s heard her.

  
  
  
  
  
  


After that, Three vanishes into his quarters for several days. When he misses lunch and then dinner on the first day, Five brings him a tray.

He lets her in with a weary sigh, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Where could I find some of those... visualization… things?” he asks, busying himself with putting the tray on his bed.

Since his back is turned, Five doesn’t bother suppressing her grin.

“I used the virtual space to build a few, just in case you wanted them.” She fishes the access devices from her pocket and offers them to him. “I don’t know how using these will interact with your bonds, but I figure it can’t get any worse, right?” She smiles nervously.

Three snorts.

“From your mouth to those aliens’ ears, kid. And thanks. For…” he waves a hand, vaguely encompassing the entire room, “all of it.”

Five ducks her head, smiling, and leaves.

  
  
  
  
  


Truffault takes Two and Three’s absence as a clear sign that they don’t want to be near her. For the first few days, she busies herself with settling into her new quarters, though she tries not to settle in too much for fear that she’ll never leave. After there are no more shirts to be folded or guns to clean, she reaches out to the Mikkei scientists who perfected the nanites. She gives them the broad theoretical strokes of the situation, emphasizing its purely theoretical nature, and asks them to work on it in their spare time. She doesn’t have high hopes, but she figures the more people on the problem, the more likely it’ll be solved.

Once she has no more data to transmit to her scientists and has grown tired of being locked out of the training room, she takes to roaming the ship aimlessly. If nothing else, she figures intimate knowledge of the  _ Raza _ ’s layout will be useful for future joint ventures.

It’s on one such walk that she discovers Six, sorting supplies in the med bay. She pauses in the doorway— she hadn’t meant to find anyone in particular, but this might be a good opportunity to get an outside, if not neutral, perspective.

She makes up her mind and strolls into the med bay, hands in her pockets.

“You’re supposed to be the good one, yes? The former G.A. officer?” she asks casually, leaning against a glass-fronted cabinet.

Six looks up, expression wary.

“Uh, yes,” he confirms. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Oh, not really,” she says, false cheer becoming more forced. Her eyes are fixed on something over his right shoulder. “I’m looking for an— outside perspective. On the _ brain link _ .” She says the last words as if they’re personally offensive. Six suspects that to her, they are.

“I figure you’re the least likely to go blabbing my secrets to anyone else.” She wrinkles her nose and forces her gaze to return to his face.

Six stares at her for a long moment, box of syringes forgotten in his hand.

Truffault forces her body to stay still, to not twitch with the anxiety she feels swelling under her skin. After what could barely be 45 seconds, she gives up her stoic silence and bursts out, “What do you say? Are you the person for the job?”

He looks her over for another long moment. Finally, he nods and sets down the box.

“I can’t promise that you’ll like my advice,” he warns.

Truffault grins, a predatory glint in her eye.

“I can’t promise you’ll like the details,” she retorts, and sticks out her hand to shake.

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Deal,” he says, and takes her hand.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They sit in silence for a long time, the only noise the sounds of Six’s methodical cataloguing.

He seems content to wait her out; Delaney is fiercely grateful that he’s instinctively understood what she needs, instead of forcing her to say it in as many words.

She taps her fingers against the side of her leg, thinking through what to tell him and how. She’s pretty sure that he’s figured out a fair amount, even without any of them confiding in him. She debates with herself whether to try to keep up the charade that he doesn’t know exactly who she’s talking about. Eventually, she decides that he already has plenty with which to ruin her. If he hasn’t already gone to Two or Three about this, he won’t do it after he has the actual details, especially now that he’s sworn his silence.

“This hasn’t changed anything,” she says abruptly.

Six looks at her quizzically.

“I knew how I felt before this happened,” she clarifies. “I... have feelings for them that go beyond the professional, or even the physical.” She wrinkles her nose. “I know they don’t share my feelings; that they don’t want anything to do with  _ romance _ , or  _ commitment. _ ” Her voice is thick with the scorn she imagines them to have. “I know that mentioning anything of the sort is the surest way to ensure that they’ll run for the hills.”

She sighs.

“I’ve known this about them since the day we met, and I’m fine with it. And yet… it hurts more than I imagined, to have them so close but so far.”

Six listens in silence, hands moving deliberately through a stack of bandages. When Delaney’s been quiet for several minutes, he pauses his counting.

“Are you sure they feel that way?” he asks, voice carefully neutral, eyes still on the packaged gauze in his lap. “There’s a lot more to them than meets the eye.”

He looks up her; Delaney feels pierced by his gaze.

“I bet if you asked, their answers would surprise you,” he says evenly.

Delaney frowns and opens her mouth to refute his obviously ludicrous claim.

Six interrupts her, holding up his hand. “Wait. Don’t assume the Two and Three you met then are the same ones here now.” One side of his mouth turns up in a half-smile. “I told you that you might not like my advice.”

Delaney eyes him dubiously.

Finally, she says, “Well, I didn’t agree to  _ listen _ to it.” Her tone is wry, but her expression is thoughtful.

She flaps a hand at him as she leaves, Six’s gentle chuckles following her out.

  
  
  
  
  
  


All is not well in the training room.

Two has been trying, without much success, to use meditation to decipher her feelings. So far, she has determined that she  _ is  _ experiencing feelings of contentment, perhaps even love, on top of the usual thrumming desire. The emotions are becoming less foreign and more familiar the longer she acknowledges them.

The fact that they now feel normal, even  _ good _ ? That’s what scares her.

When she gets tired of her brain churning through the same three thoughts repeatedly, she goes back to the punching bag.

_ Wham—  _ Did these feelings come from the bonds?  _ Slam _ — Were they there before?  _ Bam _ — Does it even matter?

Two growls and jabs the punching bag hard, sending it careening on its hook. She’s getting nowhere with trying to figure this out on her own; maybe it’s time to suck it up and actually talk to the people she’s angsting about.

She makes a face at her ridiculous dithering and strips off her gloves. One last try on her own and then she’ll go looking for them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She settles onto the mats, noticing that her usual spot has the beginnings of an indentation marking where she’s sat for hours. Her eyes close and she tries to sigh out the tension that built up in her workout.

When she’s about as calm as she thinks she can get, Two directs her thoughts back to the ever-present bonds.

She pauses, brow furrowed. Maybe trying to figure out the who/when/why of the emotions isn’t the right approach. Maybe it’s time to just accept their existence and think about what she wants to do about them now that they’re here.

She sinks deeper into her mind and looks around the bonds. She’s mildly surprised to see how well-rooted they are; their tendrils are buried deep in her mind, twining around each other to form a protective casing for her core.

They shift slightly to let her through, and suddenly, she’s inside. It’s warm, suffused with golden light. She feels uncharacteristically at peace.

As she looks around the endless space, she notices that the cords of the bonds are casting some of the light. She hesitates, then gently reaches out to one of the bonds.

She yanks herself back, shocked by the  _ blisseuphorialove  _ emanating from the bond.

The bond, sensing her surprise, shies away from her, curling up against itself protectively.

Watching the bond retreat makes Two cringe in pain. She notices that the bond is now casting a long shadow through her core.

She takes a deep breath, then another.

Slowly, deliberately, she eases closer to the bond. It twitches, somehow exuding apprehension.

She takes another deep breath and sets both hands on the bond. This time, the _blisseuphorialove_ doesn’t startle her, though she is momentarily surprised by its intensity. She keeps her hands in place, and the feelings morph into _cautiousoptimismcontentmenthopelovelovelove._

She doesn’t know how long she stays inside her core, communing with the bonds. Time seems to slow down in the glowing space.

When she eventually surfaces, she is entirely at peace. She’s set aside all questions of the bonds’ sources and has instead chosen to accept them.

She no longer cares if these feelings were not originally hers; they’re now as much a part of her as any other emotion or desire. She embraces them, and does not wish them gone.

Feeling much more settled, Two stands up and groans as she stretches her back out. She knows by how kinked up it is that she’s been sitting in the same position for hours.

When she’s done stretching, she replaces her comm in her ear. She’s spent long enough cooped up in the gym; it’s time to go back to her crew.

She smiles. Her crew, and perhaps, her  _ partners _ , if they’ll have her.

  
  
  
  
  
  


All three seem surprised to see each other at dinner. Delaney, wearing her fuzzy sweater, is already seated; next to Six and across from the Android and Five.

“I thought—” Delaney starts when Two walks in, the shakes her head. “Nevermind.”

Two quirks a smile. “You thought we’d never come out?” She sits down next to Five and reaches for the bowl of rounded green starch-cakes.

Delaney coughs. “No, I—” she pauses, then smiles ruefully. “Perhaps.”

They’ve all served themselves and Android is keenly explaining how she envisioned eating the dish (with the purple dried berries sprinkled on top of the mash) when Three sticks his head in.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks unnecessarily, gesturing to the chair on Delaney’s other side.

Delaney smiles broadly up at him.

“Only by you,” she says, offering him a bowl.

Three busies himself with spooning out the mash for a moment, then, noticing the silence, looks up to find everyone’s eyes on him.

“What?” he asks crossly.

Six coughs, then smiles. “It’s good to see you, Three.”

Three shoves a bite of food in his mouth to avoid answering and waves his spoon in a vague salute.

After dinner, Six and Five help Android clear the table then hastily make their excuses. Two, Three, and Delaney are left sitting at the table, avoiding each others eyes and twiddling their thumbs.

Two realizes that as the leader, she needs to be the first to speak, to demonstrate it to be a safe space in which to discuss their feelings.

She takes a deep breath and is about to speak when Delaney cuts her off.

“My scientists found a solution,” she bursts out, determinately looking at the wall panels.

Two swallows what she was going to say.

“What?” Three rasps. “I thought…”

Two turns to Delaney. “You talked to Mikkei about this?” she growls.

“Only in the most theoretical and vague terms!” Delaney protests, fidgeting. “I thought we needed all the help we could get. You both made it abundantly clear that you wanted this resolved as quickly as possible.” She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.

“That was before,” Three says, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.

Two nods, frowning. “I was going to tell you that I feel differently now, but I guess it doesn’t matter now that we can break the bonds.”

Delaney coughs.

“It’s not exactly… the scientists haven’t figured out how to  _ break  _ the bonds, just how to… quiet them,” she demurs.

Three looks away.

“Sounds the same to me,” Two says quietly.

“I don’t want that,” Three says abruptly. The other two turn to look at him quizzically.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking, these past few days,” he explains. “I tried to block you out so I could figure out on my own how I feel about this whole— thing,” he waves his hand by his head to indicate the bonds. “But when it was finally quiet again, in my head, I just felt… empty. I realized how much I missed the links— missed  _ you _ — when you weren’t there anymore.” He sits back, brow furrowed in apprehension but looking calmer for having said his piece.

Two and Delaney are silent for a long moment.

“I was worried about where the feelings came from,” Two admits quietly. “I didn’t want to drag you into anything that wasn’t real. But I’ve finally realized that it doesn’t matter where they came from; I  _ do  _ feel…” The struggle is visible on her face. “I care about you both, more than just for sex,” she finishes.

Delaney wants to pinch herself. She never imagined that this conversation would go this way; she’d instead figured they’d be thrilled to rid themselves of the bonds as quickly as possible.

She looks from one face to the other, then asks, “Do I understand you to be saying that you’re… content with the way things are now?”

Two looks at her, expression guarded.

“Only if you are, too,” she says.

Delaney realizes that she hasn’t told them how she feels and almost kicks herself.

“I’ve loved you both for a long time,” she says simply.

She watches closely as expressions of relief-happiness-excitement spread over their faces.

“Then it’s settled,” Delaney says, feeling herself smiling back at them.

Someone reaches out first— later, they won’t remember who— but they end up tangled together, embracing fiercely.

When they touch, Two feels the glowing bonds in her head expand to illuminate all available space, almost whiting out her vision with euphoric sparks.

Three relishes the bonds’ warmth, feeling it sink deep into him, setting him alight everywhere he touches the others.

Delaney revels in the sensation of their arms surrounding her, their minds encircling hers to form a fiery barrier against the outside world.

They’ll need to figure out the details later, but for now, they delight in their minds and bodies singing with happiness as they join together as one.


End file.
